It Starts Like This
by alishatorn
Summary: Huntbastian. A series of connected snapshots about the relationship between Sebastian Smythe and Hunter Clarington in their senior year at Dalton Academy. 'Contrary to popular belief, Hunter Clarington doesn't really like to sing.'
1. Chapter 1

(A/N: This fic is currently being posted to Tumblr with illustrations accompanying each chapter. If you wish to see them, the corresponding links to the art can be found on my profile page.)

Contrary to popular belief, Hunter Clarington doesn't really like to sing.

Oh, he's good at it, and he's a good enough dancer that leading the Warblers to a sectionals win isn't a difficulty, but he doesn't _love_ the act of it like Jeff or Nick or Trent do. He doesn't sing for pleasure and he certainly doesn't dance because he _wants_ to. He just happens to be better at it than the average uncoordinated boy, and that had been enough to receive the captaincy at the military academy he'd transferred from.

Still. Hunter doesn't like being in the Warblers very much, but he puts in serious time to take them to the top because what he _is_ a fan of is _perfection_. He doesn't try out for any of Dalton's multitude of sports clubs because he knows the kind of commitment it takes to be the top at _anything_, and he's not about to jeopardize his place here. He had been brought here to win Nationals for Dalton Academy, and that's exactly what he's going to do.

So he keeps his head about him and ignores try-outs for football and fencing and all the other sports that he'd far prefer being in. He does his homework in the library, aces every test, and on the few times _without_ Warbler practice, he sits in the bleachers and watches various teams practice and tries not to be too jealous.

He sees Sebastian Smythe a _lot_.

Not because he wants to, but because Smythe happens to be the captain of the Lacrosse team and he puts more hours on the field practicing than anyone Hunter's ever seen.

When Hunter comes to watch the soccer team practice, Sebastian is tucked away on the far end of the field, working on his aim. When Hunter passes by after watching the track team run laps, Sebastian's doing sit-ups on the bleachers. And when Hunter sticks around to watch the Lacrosse team actually _play_ a game, at the end of it, Sebastian sticks around after the crowds have thinned and actually runs _laps_.

"Sebastian, come on, man," Nick calls. "_Celebrate_. You won the game!"

But Smythe just waves him on ahead. "Need to do five more laps," he grunts. "I missed an easy shot."

Nick rolls his eyes fondly and leaves, and Hunter feels an odd swell of kinship. Here, then, is another boy who understands what it's like to be a _captain_. To chase perfection.

It is this thought that compels him to stay, and it is this thought that propels him forward when Smythe finally finishes his laps. The locker room is empty by this time, the other boys off to celebrate their second win of the season. They're used to Sebastian's behavior by now; they don't wait for him.

Sebastian is shirtless when Hunter finds him, his hands hooked into the waistband of his shorts. He raises an eyebrow. "Please don't tell me I missed another Warblers practice," he groans. "I told Jeff to text me if you called for another impromptu session."

Hunter shakes his head slowly. "You didn't miss practice," he says. "I watched the game. You were excellent."

There's a flicker of surprise in Sebastian's before his lips twist in a knowing smirk. "Like what you saw, did you?" he asks. "Stay then, if you want a show." It isn't the first time he's flirted with Hunter, and it likely won't be the last. It's fun to see what will potentially make Clarington blush. Sebastian surmises that the other boy's made of stone, he's so _uptight_.

To his shock, Hunter actually walks closer, his footsteps resounding in the empty room. "I'm serious," he says. "You were amazing out there."

The smirk doesn't quite fall from Sebastian's face, but it does change into a pleased grin. "Thanks," he says, or at least tries to, because in one moment Hunter is complimenting him and in the other he's trying to see how far he can stick his tongue down Sebastian's throat. (The answer is, of course: very.)

There's a few moments of harsh breathing and bumping into lockers as Sebastian does his best to rid Hunter of his blazer, and it isn't until they're both standing half-naked in the chilly room that Sebastian squints.

"I thought you said you weren't even remotely bi-curious," he says, when Hunter sticks his hand down his shorts. "You must _really_ like Lacrosse."

Hunter smirks. "That's not all I really like," he says, and reaches for him again.

. . .

They don't talk about it.

At least, not in any way that matters. Sometimes Sebastian will look at Hunter after Warblers practice and raise an eyebrow, or Hunter will pass by the Lacrosse field and make sure Smythe sees him. A minute nod, a vague half smile, and before the hour is out, one of them will be pressed up against the inside of one of their dorm rooms, trying not to moan too loudly.

Today it's Sebastian's room during their lunch period, and Hunter tries not to worry about how his roommate might burst in at any moment. Sebastian had sworn that Nick was cramming in the library today, and since they both have the next period off, there's really no better way to spend an afternoon.

Hunter thinks that he should be annoyed at how easily Sebastian had convinced him, but when the other boy takes him apart with his mouth and his hands and his _cock_, he can't really bring himself to _care_.

Sebastian's grip is firm and slick, just the way Hunter likes it, and he's so deep inside him that all he has to do is arch his back and he practically sees _stars_. Somewhere in the middle of it, he ends up riding Sebastian, two hands gripping his wrists as he fucks himself on his cock. Smythe doesn't have his trademark smirk on his face for once—he's biting his lip and he's looking at Hunter through his lashes like he can't _bear_ to stop—and Hunter is overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him.

He comes soon after, with his teeth digging into Sebastian's lower lip and Sebastian's name on his breath.

The afternoon sunlight paints everything in gold.

Afterwards, when Smythe is shrugging on his jacket and Hunter is putting on his shoes, they share a smile. Sebastian crosses to the bed and kisses him, running his tongue against his lower lip and sucking lightly. It makes Hunter's mouth red.

"Wait five minutes before you leave," Sebastian says, as he walks to the door. "Later, _captain_."

Hunter grins. He waits until he can hear Sebastian's footsteps recede down the hall, then gets up.

There's a freshman loitering in the hallway when he walks out of Smythe's room. Hunter brushes past him without a second thought.

The first time Hunter realizes that he could have a problem is during Regionals when they're announced as the winners. Everyone around him is erupting in cheers and the first thing he does is look for Sebastian fucking Smythe. The other boy is high-fiving Jeff and has his arm slung around Nick, and Hunter is halfway over there to give him a large (and very manly) hug, when he stops himself.

Because while Sebastian Smythe is someone he is having sex with, he's hardly a person Hunter would consider a good friend. Hell, they've barely even spoken outside of Warbler practice and their dorm rooms; he has no reason to feel any sort of attachment to him.

So Hunter turns around awkwardly and accepts a thump on the back from Thad, his smile dissipating somewhat.

"Great job," Thad shouts, trying to make himself heard over the din. He's practically vibrating in place; this is the first time the Warblers have made it past Regionals in over a decade, and it's something to be proud of.

"Next stop, Nationals," a voice in his ear says suddenly, and there's a hand on his shoulder that spins Hunter around.

He comes face to face with Sebastian who's grinning from ear to ear, and he's so surprised that he lets the other boy pull him into a hug. "You were _amazing_," Sebastian mutters into his hair, and he injects enough innuendo into the statement that it makes Hunter go red.

He pushes him away roughly, trying to stamp down the pure, unadulterated _emotion_ that rises in his chest. _This isn't happening._ He avoids Sebastian's confused stare as he crosses to the host, accepting their trophy on the Warblers' behalf.

This isn't how it's supposed to be; this thing between him and Sebastian- it's mutual stress relief. It's easy and uncomplicated and it doesn't _mean_ _anything. _

It _can't_.

Face burning, he spends the ride home trying not to look at Smythe.

He needn't have bothered.

Sebastian doesn't so much as glance in his direction for the rest of the night.

. . .

Hunter spends the next week trying to get dates from Crawford Country Day girls.

Jeff gets a weird look on his face when he asks him to set him up, but the other boy obliges him with a few phone numbers nonetheless. Hunter picks three at random and two of them actually text him back. He loses interest in one early on (she says she's a dog person), but the other is promising and by Friday he has a date lined up.

He hadn't brought much in the way of civilian clothing, but he finds a clean black t-shirt in the back of his suitcase and makes a mental note to ask his mother to send him some more of his things.

"Going out?" Jeff asks, looking up from his book. He's got his feet up on Hunter's chair.

"Date," Hunter says, shrugging on his jacket. "I'll be back before curfew."

Jeff grins. "You dog," he says, snickering. "I just gave you those numbers three days ago!"

"Later." Hunter smirks, leaving.

He takes his jeep to Crawford, gallantly stepping out in order to open the door for her. Her name is Sarah and he takes her to dinner at Breadstix. They talk about where she's going for college, Hunter's cat, and her favourite books. She's pretty enough, with blue eyes and long brown hair, and Hunter settles back in his chair and wonders if he should ask her out again. His mother would love her, he knows, and his father… his father would find her completely _acceptable_.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he smiles apologetically before flipping it open. '_Try the parmigiana; it's the only thing even remotely edible here._ –S'

Hunter feels the blood drain from his face as he looks around the restaurant. There's a table in the back filled with blue blazers, and sitting right in the middle of them is Sebastian fucking Smythe.

Jeff waves sheepishly from beside him, then shrugs as if to say 'I tried to stop them'. Hunter purses his lips and shakes his head. There's going to be hell to pay later, and he's going to start with _Jeff_.

"Are those your friends?" Sarah ventures timidly, reaching for his hand.

Hunter accepts the gesture, forcing a grin. "They _were_," he says. "But please, ignore them. They're children."

They make it five minutes before his phone vibrates again. _'I like the shirt. It's so… tight. -S'_

Hunter turns around and throws Sebastian a dirty look, then pointedly turns his phone screen-down on the table. "Sorry," he mutters.

They resume eating, but the mood is broken; Hunter can practically feel Sebastian's eyes drilling into the back of his head with every forkful of pasta.

He lasts ten minutes before getting up and throwing his napkin on the table. "Will you excuse me?" he says, forcing a smile. "I need to use the restroom."

"S-Sure," Sarah says.

Hunters stalks past the Warblers' table without even a glance in their direction; if they know what's good for them, they'll be gone before he's done.

He washes his hands and counts to a hundred, then washes his hands again. That should have given them enough time to get out. He puts his hand on the door handle just as it swings open, and he jumps back just in time to avoid getting clocked.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow as he steps forward, locking the door behind him. "What the hell are you doing, Smythe?" Hunter hisses.

"Doing?" Sebastian's smile is almost knife-like in the dim light. "I'm blowing you, actually."

There's something hard and brittle in his eyes when he pushes Hunter back against the far stall, dropping to his knees.

"_Don't_," Hunter says, but there's no _heat_ in his voice, only a vague sort of want. He hasn't been with Sebastian in over a week and his body responds easily to his touch.

Sebastian takes it as the invitation it is to unzip him and take his cock in his mouth, and then Hunter doesn't really say anything at all. He bites his lip and presses his hand against the wall to steady himself, watching as Sebastian sucks him down. His eyes are slivers of green as he hollows his cheeks out, and even if Hunter hadn't already been sex-deprived for a week, he still would've come embarrassingly quickly. He pushes at Smythe's shoulders, trying to get him off, but Sebastian only winks and sucks harder.

When he comes, Sebastian milks him for as long as he can before releasing him with a wet pop. His mouth is red and he's breathing hard, and Hunter tucks himself back into his jeans with shaking hands.

"Why did you do that?" he asks, voice hoarse.

Sebastian shrugs, getting to his feet with easy grace. "Because I wanted to," he says carelessly. He washes his hands in the sink, then smoothes his hair back.

He leaves without a backwards glance.

By the time Hunter has gotten himself together and stepped out of the restroom, Sebastian and the rest of the Warblers have gone and Sarah is livid. "Where have you been?" she hisses. "I thought you _left_; I was about to call my girlfriends to pick me up!"

"Sorry," Hunter says. "There was… a hell of a line in there."

Sarah looks at him incredulously, then looks pointedly around the mostly empty restaurant. "I want to go home now," she says, and Hunter signals for the check.

Needless to say, they don't go out again.

. . .


	2. Chapter 2

_(__**A/N: **__This fic is currently being posted to Tumblr with illustrations accompanying each chapter. If you wish to see them, the corresponding links to the art can be found on my profile page.)_

Hunter doesn't speak to Sebastian for the entire weekend.

He stays holed up in his room and no one bothers him because Jeff has gone home and the rest of the Warblers all know that they're on his shit list. He knows Sebastian has stuck around too because he can hear him talking in the hallway, and it comes as no surprise how easily he can pick out his voice.

By Saturday afternoon, Hunter has finished all of his homework and is working on the Warblers' set list for Nationals. He's flicking through his iPod, jumping from song to song, and wondering if they should go for shock value once again. It had worked perfectly during Sectionals but they'd toned it down a bit during Regionals, but if there's any time where they need to stand out, it's now.

They're holding Nationals in New York this year, and he's willing to bet that their judges won't be on the uptight side. He figures they'll be able to get away with quite a bit.

Hunter taps his pen against his lower lip, trying to work out possible choreography for 'When I Get You Alone'. Sebastian has been a big help with this sort of thing before, but Hunter would rather gouge out his own eyes than call him for assistance _now_.

He rubs at his temples and tries to lose himself in the music, imagining which formations would go best with which verses. He mentally puts Nick next to Thad since they're close to the same height, then places Jeff and Sebastian on each side.

_Sebastian._ Now that he's got the other boy's face in mind, he finds that he's quite unable to think of anything else. It doesn't help that his mental image is of Sebastian grinning wildly during their Sectionals win. He'd been sweaty and out of breath and his hair had been plastered to his forehead, but Hunter thinks he's never seen him look so damned good.

He holds the image in his mind, intersperses it with how Sebastian had looked on his knees last night, and pure _want_ shoots through him like a living thing.

_No. _Hunter slams the iPod down on his desk and stands, grabbing a sweatshirt. He can _beat_ this. He _knows_ he can. _He has to._

The sun is setting by the time he gets to Dalton's track, and he closes his eyes and sucks in the chilly night air. He shakes his limbs loose, stretching his arms and feeling the muscles in his back pop.

Then he _runs_.

His sneakers hit the ground rhythmically, each foot going in front of the other as he moves forward. His pace is steady and the wind stings his nose, his cheeks, his eyes. He tells himself to stop thinking about Sebastian, to clear his mind, to lose himself in the act of propelling himself onwards, but none of it _works_.

The grass is green and reminds him of Smythe's eyes. Hunter runs until his heart thuds against his ribcage, runs until his breathing is harsh, pained.

He runs until he _can't _anymore, and eventually, he slows. Stops.

His eyes sting.

It isn't because of the wind.

…

Hunter doesn't say anything when he passes by Sebastian on the way back into the dormitory. The other boy's got his Lacrosse gear slung over one shoulder and he opens his mouth to say something, but Hunter brushes past him, stone-faced and wooden.

For a split second, he sees Sebastian's face fall from the corner of his eye, but just as quickly he covers it back up with his trademark smirk.

Hunter pulls the door open and holds it long enough for Sebastian to go through, but not quite long enough that it doesn't catch him on the shoulder when he does. The hallways are quiet because everyone has gone to dinner, and Hunter listens to Smythe's soft footfall behind him. Their rooms are separated by four doors exactly, and Sebastian's double is closer to the stairs.

Hunter most certainly does _not_ turn his head when he hears Sebastian open his door, nor does he deflate when he no longer hears his footsteps behind him.

He shoves open the door to his room and strips off his sweatshirt, shoving a hand through his hair. He wants to growl in frustration, to put a _fist_ through the wall.

He does none of these things.

Instead, he goes to Sebastian's room and has him pressed up against the wall before the door even finishes falling shut. Hunter puts his hands on his chest and feels his heartbeat, strong and quick, and then they're kissing and he forgets everything else.

Sweat drips and pools in the hollow of Sebastian's stomach when Hunter fucks into him, his low moan the only sound in the room. He watches the column of Sebastian's throat as he throws his head back as Hunter takes him, memorizes each beauty mark scattered in various constellations across his body. Hunter kisses his mouth, sucks at the pulse point on his neck, traces his fingers down the path of Sebastian's chest.

'_I want you,'_ he doesn't say. _'I need you.'_

They fuck like only the young can fuck—well into the night and wordlessly—and when they are sated, they _sleep_.

Hunter is gone by the time Sebastian wakes up.


	3. Chapter 3

_(__**A/N: **__This fic is currently being posted to Tumblr with illustrations accompanying each chapter. If you wish to see them, the corresponding links to the art can be found on my profile page.)_

This does _not _happen: On Monday, Hunter goes to his classes, eats his lunch, watches Lacrosse practice, waits for Sebastian on the bleachers like a lovesick schoolgirl, walks up to him when he's done showering (hair damp and curling against the nape of his neck), hooks a hand against the back of his head and pulls him in, says with his lips and his tongue what his mouth won't say, and Sebastian _lets_ him.

They skip Warblers practice for the first time ever and head back to Hunter's room, where Sebastian lets him fuck him again, long and slow, on his crumpled sheets. He's still tender from last night, sore from how urgent their last encounter had been, but Hunter takes his time working him open, fingers slick with spit and lube.

"_Christ_," Sebastian moans, when Hunter finally starts to press inside, the blunt head of his cock opening him up.

It should hurt, Hunter knows this, but Sebastian makes a keening sound in the back of his throat, his back arched in a paroxysm of pleasure. His mouth is slack and his eyes are glazed, his fingers digging into Hunter's back.

His cock is rock hard and Hunter slips a hand between them, twisting a little at the top just the way he knows Sebastian likes it. They slip and slide together in the near darkness, slow like they've never been before, and Hunter nuzzles at the underside of his jaw.

Sebastian's hand finds his mouth in the dim light, thumbing at his lower lip, and there's an odd sort of tenderness to the motion. Hunter opens his mouth and sucks on it, swirling his tongue against the pad of his thumb.

Sebastian's eyes are very green.

"_Hunter, I—_" but whatever Sebastian's going to say is lost when Hunter releases his thumb with a wet pop, exchanging it for a slow kiss.

By the time he pulls back, Sebastian is breathing heavily and his fingers are digging into Hunter's forearm. "Want you," he mumbles, in a voice so soft that it could've been something else entirely.

Clarington hears what he wants to. He drops a kiss on Sebastian's brow and moves inside him steadily, rolling his hips when the other boy _shudders_.

"There," Sebastian whispers, and even with just the moonlight to see, Hunter can see that he looks absolutely _wrecked_. "_Please._"

Hunter obliges him, angling his hips to brush at the spot deep inside of him. He hits it again and again and Sebastian shakes, throwing his head back, and Hunter gets one hand on his cock and starts to stroke once more.

It isn't long before Sebastian's teeth dig into his lower lip, fingers twisting in the sheets. He comes _hard_, thick ropes of white painting Hunter's stomach.

The sight of him looking utterly debauched is nothing short of breath-taking, and Hunter swallows. He can feel his own orgasm building, sweat dripping in rivulets down his chest. "_Seb…_"

"Come," Sebastian says, and there's not even a _hint_ of a smirk in his voice. "_Come for me..._"

Hunter does, buried inside him to the hilt and trembling violently as Sebastian clenches down. He comes inside of him, filling him up, drowning in the white hot rush of his orgasm as it spears through him.

Sebastian lets him ride out the aftershocks, carding fingers through his hair and kissing his mouth.

It's as close to happy as Hunter has ever gotten in his entire life, and none of it is _real_.

What _does _happen, is this: On Monday, Hunter goes to his classes, eats his lunch, watches Lacrosse practice from the second floor window, waits for Sebastian to finish showering, sulks in the choir room while the Warblers file in, and leads them through a rigorous practice.

He tries to catch Sebastian's eye throughout the entire performance but the other boy resolutely refuses to look back at him. Sebastian makes a beeline for the door as soon as Hunter dismisses them, and he has to grab his arm to stop him from leaving.

"Sebastian—" But before Hunter can even finish saying the other's name, Smythe has wrenched his arm away so violently from his grip that he stumbles back. Hunter's brows knit together as anger swims to the surface of Sebastian's eyes, plain for the world to see, before it is viciously stamped down.

Smythe pulls himself together like a magician would pull a rabbit out of a hat, straightening his tie and running a hand through his hair.

"Don't fucking _touch_ me, Clarington," he says, and his voice drops to a cold, mocking tone. "Wouldn't want you to catch the gay, now would we?"

He turns on his heel and slams the door behind him, leaving Hunter and the closest Warblers staring in his wake.

The dismissal is clear, and it _hurts_far more than he'd thought it would.


	4. Chapter 4

_(__**A/N: **__This fic is currently being posted to Tumblr with illustrations accompanying each chapter. If you wish to see them, the corresponding links to the art can be found on my profile page.)_

Hunter doesn't take the breakup well.

Sebastian has made it intensely clear that he wants nothing to do with him now, and Hunter keeps his distance because he has no other choice. Smythe is nothing if not unsubtle, however, and within two days after the scene he'd made, he's already bragging about his latest conquest at lunch.

It's some guy he'd met at Scandals the night before, and his voice is so loud that it's bordering on obnoxious. He's telling Jeff all the gory details, and Hunter is forced to listen as he mechanically shoves food in his mouth. The pasta tastes like soggy tissues and he eats it anyway, but when Sebastian starts talking about how big the guy's cock is, Hunter gets up so quickly that his chair falls over. He rights it and mutters something to Nick about the library, excusing himself and rushing out of the cafeteria.

He doesn't join the Warblers for lunch for the rest of the week.

Sebastian finds other ways to torture him, however, and he makes certain that he's the center of the rumor mill. The Warblers may be gentlemen on the outside, but they gossip just as much as any teenager, and when Hunter hears about Sebastian blowing an unnamed Lacrosse player in the locker room, he realizes that he's had _enough_.

It's Saturday evening when he bursts into Sebastian's room without even knocking, nearly giving Nick a heart attack as he jumps back from the door. Smythe is on his bed tying his shoelaces, clearly intending to go for a run. He raises an eyebrow.

"Nice entrance," he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Very dramatic."

"We need to talk," Hunter says, and he's almost proud of the fact that his voice doesn't shake. Much.

Nick's head swivels from Clarington to Smythe and back again, and he clears his throat. "I'm… going to go elsewhere now," he says, and Hunter steps aside to let him pass. "I'll be in, uh, Jeff's room. Well, your room too, to be precise. Going now."

Hunter doesn't even bother answering, just shuts the door behind him and thumbs the lock. He stares at Sebastian for a long moment, but the other's face is a carefully constructed mask of boredom. His expression gives nothing away.

"What are you playing at, Sebastian?" Hunter says finally, crossing his arms over his chest. Now that he's here, his previous anger has melted into something embarrassingly like _hurt_. "This isn't a game."

Smythe's lips stretch into a sneer. "But of _course_ it is," he replies, tone mocking. "And I'm the best player there is. Haven't you _heard_?"

Fire blooms in Hunter's chest at the thought of other men, grey and faceless, with their hands on Sebastian. "Everyone and their mother has heard," he bites out. His hands clench into fists. "Is it true?"

"Which part?" Sebastian asks. He leans back, legs splaying open just _so_. "The part about James in the locker room? Or Todd from the bar? Or was it Tom? I can never remember their names…"

Hunter crosses the room and is gripping Sebastian's shoulders before he even registers that he's moved. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demands, shaking him. "How can you just… How could you _do_ that?"

Sebastian shoves Hunter's hands off of himself, standing. "_You_ don't get to judge _me_," he snarls, his mask finally starting to crumble. He stabs a forefinger into Clarington's chest. "I do _what_ I want, I do _whoever_ I want, and I don't make any fucking apologies for it. You may be going through a little homo experimentation phase, but I know exactly who _I_ am. I don't slink off in the dark like some _coward _who doesn't have the balls to admit that he's _gay_—"

Hunter hits him. He doesn't mean to, but his fist moves before his brain tells it not to, and before he knows what's happening, Sebastian's holding a hand to his reddened jaw. Anger flashes in Smythe's eyes, and before Hunter can even begin to voice his apologies, Sebastian has fisted his hands into Hunter's lapels and shoved him _hard_ into Nick's desk. Textbooks thud to the floor as he crashes into them, hissing as the hard edge of the table digs into the small of his back.

Hunter's got something like ten pounds of muscle on Sebastian but his limbs feel leaden, clumsy. He doesn't even try to fight him, just stays on his back with his hands spread, the weight of Smythe's body keeping him down.

"You know what your problem is?" Sebastian is breathing hard, pressed up against Hunter with his leg between his thighs.

Hunter shakes his head slowly. He is acutely aware of all the places that their bodies are touching, and he's equally aware that they're both _hard_.

"Your problem is that you don't _know_ what the fuck you want," Sebastian says. His pupils are so dilated that they're almost black, and Hunter's heart feels like it's going to explode.

When they kiss, it's _entirely_ unpleasant.

There's a lot of teeth involved, and at one point Sebastian bites his lip so hard that it bleeds, the coppery taste spreading on both their tongues. Hunter can't tell who initiates it, but there's so much pent-up _shit_ between them that it doesn't even matter.

His fingers scrabble for purchase, shoving down Sebastian's running shorts while Smythe tears at his uniform shirt, pulling so hard that his buttons pop off. "Turn around," Sebastian says thickly, ripping his t-shirt off and pulling at Hunter's elbow, urging him to move.

Clarington allows it, swallowing hard as he grips the desk, listening to the wet sound of lube being poured out onto Smythe's hand. He doesn't bother wondering where he's gotten it from—all he wants is _Sebastian_.

"Hurry," Hunter breathes, and the other's fingers are none-too-gentle when he prepares him, both of them far too eager to take their time.

It _hurts_ when Sebastian finally fucks into him, and tears spring into Hunter's eyes and he bites down on his fist to keep from crying out. Smythe presses a hand down the middle of his back, his quiet gasps and the wet slap of flesh the only sounds in the room. It's desperate and primal and _nothing_ like how it used to be, but throughout all of it, Hunter is still painfully, _achingly_ aroused.

"Touch yourself," Sebastian orders, his breath hot against his ear, and Hunter obeys.

It isn't long before the pain turns to pleasure, the raw ache inside of him making his body feel like a livewire, Sebastian's cock splitting him open at the seams. Hunter feels like he's coming apart, like he's being laid _bare_ for the world to see.

Sebastian's name is on his lips when his orgasm crests and peaks, sweat dripping onto the wood of Nick's desk. His nerves are frayed, his backside feels raw with the burn of the fuck. It isn't long before Smythe follows, pulling out and spilling into his own fist and on Hunter's back.

The room is filled with their labored breathing as they fight to get their heart rates back to normal, and Sebastian finally steps back. He throws a towel in Hunter's direction and uses his t-shirt to wipe himself off, busying himself with pulling his shorts back up.

Hunter takes the hint and pulls himself together, cleaning up as best he can. The shirt is a goner, but he buttons his blazer over it and hopes no one will notice that it's gaping open.

He steps towards the door, uncertainly looking at Sebastian's back. He's shirtless and kneeling, gathering up Nick's fallen textbooks, but he stills as if he can feel Hunter's eyes on him.

"When you figure out what you want, feel free to let me know."

Hunter swallows hard. "Sebastian, I—"

"Just go." Sebastian doesn't sound angry anymore, just tired.

The ball's in Hunter's court right now, they both know it, but he's never been good at this sort of thing.

He nods even though Sebastian can't see it, and leaves.


	5. Chapter 5

_(__**A/N: **__This fic has been posted to Tumblr with illustrations accompanying each chapter. If you wish to see them, the corresponding links to the art can be found on my profile page. _

_I initially started this fic because I thought Hunter was hot and Sebastian deserved a storyline that didn't revolve around harassing Blaine/New Directions/a combination of the two. I thought that Hunter would be a perfect foil/challenge for Sebastian, and I wrote this through his eyes, as someone who was attracted to Seb like a moth to a flame. I rewrote the ending three times because the first version was too angsty and the second version was too happy, and because real life is very rarely in black and white._

_Many thanks to the small (but growing!) Huntbastian fanbase for all your kind words of support, and for following this little fanart/snapshot story of mine. I hope you guys like! 3_)

. . .

Hunter makes his choice.

He goes to Sebastian on a Tuesday morning, pulls him into his empty room and tells him everything. He tells him about the other guys in Colorado Springs—their faces so faded in his mind that they're practically anonymous—and about his father, who's always suspected but never quite figures it out. He tells him that Clarington men aren't gay, that they _can't_ be gay, and that his father is a military man through and through and through.

Sebastian listens quietly, face betraying nothing, when Hunter tells him that he's done this all before. The only difference is that he'd managed to keep it a secret— a meaningless dalliance—but that he just _can't_ with Sebastian.

"You're scared of me," Smythe says finally, when Hunter dares to look at him. He takes a step forward as Clarington steps back, gaining every bit of ground that the other boy tries to put between them. "Hunter. It's okay."

Clarington's back hits the closet and Sebastian stops a hand span away from him. He's never felt smaller.

"It's okay," Sebastian says again, softer this time, and he's so close that Hunter can see the flecks of gold in his irises.

"Maybe a little," Hunter confesses, closing his eyes. It's yet another chink in his armor, another piece of him laid bare for the other to see, and Hunter knows that when it comes to Smythe, he's got nothing left to hide behind.

Sebastian reaches out, cups his hand against the back of his neck, and pulls him in. "Say it," he whispers, his mouth inches away. "I want to hear you say it."

"I want you," Hunter says, and it's terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. "I want to _be_ with you."

Sebastian's smile is incandescent then, and he's on him so quickly that Hunter barely even registers that they're kissing. It's all lips and teeth and excruciating want, and Hunter has never felt so _alive_.

He pulls and Sebastian pushes, and somehow they end up on the bed, Hunter clinging to Smythe's waist like he's a god damned lifeline. "Seb," he groans, when the other boy palms him through his slacks. "_Fuck_…"

"Inside me," Sebastian pants, breathing hard as he rubs against Hunter like a cat in heat, fingers twisting in his hair. "Come _on_, Hunter…"

Clothing is shoved aside in their urgency, blazers tossed to the floor in a haphazard heap. Hunter has lost count of how many times he's fucked Sebastian, but somehow this feels entirely different.

Even though he's so turned on he can barely see straight, Hunter takes his time preparing the other boy, grabbing the lube from Sebastian's nightstand. Sebastian's on his lap, leaning on him like a chair while he rides his fingers, exhaling each breath against Hunter's mouth. Three fingers in and Smythe's pupils are blown, his face slack with pleasure. "Now," he says- _moans, _really—and Hunter nods dumbly.

He watches as Sebastian turns to straddle him, sinking down onto his cock with a barely restrained moan, pushing down until he can't take any more of Hunter in. His forehead is beaded with sweat, his skin slick, and Hunter thinks he's never seen anyone look so fucking _hot_.

By the time Sebastian starts to move, Hunter is gripping his waist so hard that he's leaving little red fingerprints against Smythe's skin. The pace of the fuck is all Sebastian—hard enough to drive Hunter crazy, but not quite enough to let him come—and Clarington's about to go out of his mind with want.

He brings a hand up to Sebastian's cock and starts to jack him in time with his thrusts, twisting his hips up as Sebastian pushes down. His movements are urgent now, desperate, and they move towards orgasm together, their harsh breathing filling the room.

"Hunter," Sebastian says raggedly, fingers biting into his shoulders.

A few more thrusts and he comes abruptly, his teeth biting into his lower lip, spilling onto Hunter's stomach. It isn't long before Clarington follows, burying his face in Sebastian's shoulder.

Smythe holds him through the aftershocks, his fingers almost tender as they card through his hair. "It'll be okay, Hunt," he mumbles, and Hunter actually _believes_ him.

They don't move for a long moment, limbs entwined, sweat cooling on their skin. Things are different now, Hunter knows this, and he knows that he can never go back to how things used to be. There's a line stretched out between halves of his life, marking the change. He doesn't know what's coming, doesn't want to think about all the ways this could possibly go wrong, but this is a moment that he'll remember _forever_.

The day he stopped being afraid.

The day he opened his heart to Sebastian _fucking_ Smythe.

_This is how they start._

Outside, the rest of Dalton moves on without them.


End file.
